Tuesday 30 August 2011

AWOL, no dongle

Sorry I'm absent without leave at the moment. I'm camping in Weymouth whilst we visit the in-laws. They are very helpfully letting us use their washing machine, etc, but even having nice clean clothes can't make up for the horror that is camping in a howling gale. I had visions of what late summer camping by the seaside should be: lots of lazy evenings sitting outside our little tent with a glass of Pimms, perhaps, whilst our angelic children slumbered peacefully inside, and all was quiet but for the odd barn owl or some such. Well, that'll teach me to daydream. Too cold to do anything but hop right on into the down sleeping bag, wearing pajamas and a cashmere jumper and pashmina (no, I'm not kidding). And certainly no late night drinkies as I can't risk needing the loo and having to get up in the torrential rain in the middle of the night. Furthermore, what with it being bank holiday weekend, the campsite was rammed with people in camper vans with really loud televisions. Still, we have seen the grandparents and watched Punch & Judy and had fish and chips, and Hubby is still managing not to instigate divorce proceedings, as I slouch around with a frown, thinking longingly of a place where we had to put the air conditioner on at night to make it cool enough to sleep, and there was someone else to do the washing up...
You might not hear from me again for a bit, as I haven't got a dongle...

Friday 19 August 2011

holidays etc.

We had another sleepover at the cousins' yesterday - will the holiday excitement never end? Sense and Sensibility on DVD in one room and Harry potter and the order of the phoenix in the other and pizza for supper. And today I have continued my pursuit of payback for national trust membership by visiting another old country house, this time in Cornwall. It was very lovely and so were the ice creams, thanks. Tonight another enormous pile of ironing is lying in wait for me, boo. But tomorrow Hubby is back, hurrah - and he will be all perky because he has been re-learning how to be a soldier again this week, which always makes him happy (not sure why running about in the rain and shooting things makes people happy, but it seems to work for him).
Take care xxx

Wednesday 17 August 2011

a bad dream of snow and poo

Yesterday at my sister's I did get too sit down with a cup of coffee, which was fab. However, someone also suggested a picnic, so we walked for miles, through nettles: me, my big sis and seven kids (yes, we are a fertile family), trying in vain to avoid being leapt upon by posh people's out-of-control Labradors with alcoholic names ('Pimms, come back here now! Pimms! PIMMS!! Oh, she is a naughty girl, you know'). When at last we reached the picnic site it started to rain. After our hastily-scoffed cheese sandwiches we traipsed all the way back, but this time with one exciting difference: Twin 2's wellies had given her blisters, so I had to carry her all the way. Oh the joys of summer hols in Devon....
Right, I'm back again had to break off there for a moment so that Twin 2 could tell me about her bad dream (something about poo and snow?) and Son could borrow my mobile phone to tell Hubby about an exciting development in Star Trek.
The sleepover was fabulous, of course. Nobody got any sleep whatsoever, and as a result were very underwhelmed when we took them to Dartmoor Zoo today and saw tigers feeding, falcons flying and racoons doing racoony things (the spellcheck says that's not how you spell racoon, and it's American, so it should know. However, I don't).
Twin 2 is calling me because there are apparently more details of the snow/poo dream that I have to hear in order for her to be able to get back to sleep, so I should go.
Bye x
ps - still no news from agents (is this a good thing?), boo.

Monday 15 August 2011

stop throwing those bloody rocket propelled grenades at me

Son has just told me that my watch must be wrong: it can't possibly be bedtime as it's still light outside. I blinded him with my superior knowledge about the tilt of the earth and the northern hemisphere etc. and we  have decided that bedtime can be whenever Star Trek finishes, which is good, as it gives me time to write to you.
Kids are wildly excited this evening because tomorrow they are going for a sleepover with their cousins. They have been counting down the days. I have also been counting down the days, because I know that as soon as we get to my sister's house, my kids will be whisked off, and I can sit with a cup of coffee and (hopefully) a nice open tin of biscuits and not feel like I ought to be doing colouring in or taking people for healthy walks in the fresh air. I do like a bit of colouring in, and also nice walks in the fresh air (although I have to say that it's a bit too blooming fresh here - will somebody tell the weather that it's August, for goodness sakes? I did bring a pashmina with me, as a precautionary measure against the vagaries of the British Summer, and it's been so nippy that I've been wearing it to bed), but, you know, there are still weeks of the holidays left to go and I wouldn't mind a bit of down time.
I weighed myself again on my parents' scary digital scales the other day, and got excited because I thought I'd lost half a pound - turns out it was just because I weighed myself first thing in the morning (probably just after a poo), as I was back to lardiness later on. Boo.
Hubby has gone up to Nottingham today. He's got a week of learning to be a soldier again, after three years off. He said, hopefully, that he thinks he can still tell one end of a gun from the other, before he zoomed off in his hire car. I hope so too, because if the army's cuts keep coming as thick and fast as they have been, there'll only be him and a couple of others left, and Camp Bastion will end up like a re-run of Rorke's Drift ('Stop throwing those bloody rocket propelled grenades at me!' - to be said in Michael Caine-type voice).
Star Trek over. Have promised to have a thumb war before lights out. Must go xxx

Friday 12 August 2011

tag in the bath

Girls are playing tag. Yes, that well-loved playground game, but with a twist: they are playing it in the bath. I'm going to keep writing this until I'm called upon to do emergency resuccitation (oh, that's not how you spell it? How do you spell it then?) Twin 2 suddenly wants to get out. Perhaps she's realised that tag-in-the-bath isn't a brilliant idea if you are a young girl with physical disabilities, the numpty. Gotta go xxx

rain, fog and chocolate

It's foggy and rainy, but we have chocolate and Harry Potter, so I'm still happy to be back. Hubby keeps coming out with comments about how much of a relief it is to be back in the UK - even driving to Tesco is a joy (although I suspect the thrill of it will wear off eventually).
I'm getting increasingly reluctant to check my emails, because my book has been sent to an agent, and is also with an author who said he'd have a look at it and possibly also recommend it to another agent. Every time I check my mail, I hope that I'll get a good response from one of them, and also dread getting a bad response from both. But what if? What if one of them reads the first three chapters, thinks I'm brilliant and can't wait to get in touch and set up a meeting (slim chance, I know, but hey)? So I'm having dancing a crazy dance of emotions every time I glance at my aol account. Phew.
I'd like to tell you about something thrilling, but I really did mostly eat chocolate and watch Harry Potter today. I did go for a little run this morning (in the rain, natch), which almost made me feel okay about the chocolate, until I saw my big sister in her size eight skinny jeans having nothing but a bit of carrot soup for lunch.
Now I have to go and search for camping shops, because it's not long until our epic camping trip....

Monday 8 August 2011

Back home

Hi honey, I'm homeless! Well, only for another five weeks, until we can move into our quarter.
I'm quite enjoying being back in the UK and taking full advantage of our nation, it's culture and traditions: I have already had a McDonald's, a KFC and been to Lidl. Oh, and I've also watched a whole episode of 'Come dine with me' and a little bit of an old Bergerac. Fab. Because that's what makes Britain great, you know.
Actually, it is very nice to be back, with un-pot-holed roads. And to see the family of course (probably should have prioritised them above the road quality, really).
My mum is being a top hostess and cooking lots of tasty food, and has stuffed the cupboards full of jaffa cakes and walkers crisps, which I can't eat, because it's been so long since I had a tummy bug that I am now far heavier than I ought to be (although I can't possibly diet, because I'm still on holiday). Those scales in the gym at BGN, they lied! I thought I was still quite slender and waif like, but it turns out I'm a tub of lard, bummer!
I have just heard my mum asking the kids where I am, and them saying 'no idea', so I guess I ought to go downstairs and be available.

Monday 1 August 2011

the final countdown

Just had my last yoga session. I'd like to say that I'm sad, but frankly it's a relief not to have to go through the humiliation again. However, I did get a bit sad when I went to the blue shop today to do final shop for cartons of milk, Chocos and many bottles of bleach (I'm trying to run down the food before we go. Kids are very dis-chuffed at the lack of anything tasty in the cupboards at the moment - at snack time today I offered cream crackers or cereal bars, and was met with some very underwhelmed expressions). When I got in the car to come home I realised that it would be my last ever trip to the blue shop. Boo Hoo! I don't think I was really upset about the shop, I think it was just symbolic, if that makes sense. Anyway, I couldn't let myself be upset for long as it's not safe to drive with teary eyes out here, you need your wits about you not to mow down dogs/sacred cows/small kids on large bicycles, etc.

We've had final swimming lession, final physiotherapy session, final trip to Thamel and to Patan Durbar Square. Tomorrow will be final speech therapy session and trip to the American Club. I don't think I've yet had my final near-death experience with a manic motorcyclist - quite looking forward to that one, though.

So, we're onto the final countdown (da da der da, da da der da da - oh, surely you remember the supergroup Europe? Where were you in the eighties?) this week. The packers' assessment chap came round this morning and sucked his teeth and fussed about with a tape measure. I'm a little nervous about the packing, because he wouldn't be drawn on how much stuff we have, all he'd say, rather hesitantly, was that we'll have more than eleven cubic metres. I said, but how much more? (We're only entitled to 13 cubic metres, so I'd like to know if I have to make a last minute dash to the post office to post the extras). He wouldn't say. We agreed that he'd pack the horrible white plastic garden furniture last, and then if there isn't enough room we could just leave it behind.

I'm hoping we don't have too many medical dramas this week. Today Twin 1 managed to get her baby finger trapped in Son's bedroom door and has had her hand elevated in a sling to relieve the pressure all afternoon. I have never heard her scream quite so loud, for so long (except when she was a baby and I had to hide in the cellar to escape her wails), poor thing. Even a forbidden cola flavoured lollipop and a trip to the medical centre didn't cheer her up.

Right, running out of battery power and I'm off for a glass of port (there's no wine left, and I felt I couldn't really refuse tasty treats for the kids on the basis that I'm running down the stores, and then buy myself a nice bottle of sauvignon, seemed a bit hypocritical). If you don't hear from me for a while you can assume that it's because I'm either:
a) sobbing into a port-and-rescue-remedy cocktail, or
b) trying to post an entire set of garden furniture through the BFPO system, or
c) taking one of my kids to A&E with broken limb/appendicitis, or
d) all of the above.

Cheerio x

ps - just realised that living here is the longest I have lived anywhere in the past twenty-odd years (since I went to university, in fact). No wonder I'm getting so sad about leaving - bizarrely, Kathmandu is more home than anywhere.